


Unfaithful

by annabeth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Cheating, Crossdressing, F/M, Infidelity, JJBella, M/M, Pegging, Pliroy, Smoking, Smut, boys in makeup, otayuri - Freeform, so so so much cheating and infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 03:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12761814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/annabeth
Summary: JJ has no idea if Yuri likes him at all. Yuri never gives any kind of indication; the closest JJ has to confirmation that Yuri doesn't hate him is the fact that he goes out late at night, when Otabek is DJ'ing, and meets up with JJ for the sole purpose of fucking him.





	Unfaithful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blownwish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/gifts).



> Oh man, this is so inspired by Blownwish, and honestly, feels so derivative to me, though she says she's thrilled about it? I hope you love it, then, babe.
> 
> Title is from Rihanna, and so is the idea, really; it came from that song, though the actual execution ended up being quite different than the song or what I originally imagined.

Yuri is slipping back into his Calvin Klein's, pulling them up over that taut ass. He's tying his hair back into a messy bun at the crown of his head. He's reapplying the mascara to his eyelashes that smeared when JJ tumbled them both to the bed and fucked his ass, then his mouth, with his tongue. He's slipping the gold ring back on his finger.

Yuri is, in short, leaving.

JJ rolls over in the bed, reaching for a cigarette—one of Yuri's. He only smokes when he's with Yuri; JJ picked up the bad habit from him. He lights it with Yuri's pink lighter and blows a stream of smoke toward the hotel room ceiling, watching with narrowed eyes as Yuri finishes daubing lip balm onto his perfect-pout lips. JJ knows from experience that it tastes like the finest sparkling champagne.

"Make sure you use a breath mint after," Yuri says conversationally, as if it doesn't matter, as if it isn't a critical thing that JJ daren't forget, and that Yuri always reminds him.

Because Izzy wouldn't like it if she knew. But it's more than that. It isn't that JJ smokes; it's that once, just once, she caught him smelling of someone else's cologne and cigarettes and figured it out. _Who is it?_

He hadn't told her, but Izzy's a smart woman. She probably knows it's Yuri Plisetsky, the guy he's been panting after since years before they got married. She remembers; she used to see the way JJ looked at a certain fifteen-year-old, and she'd said once, _Eyes to yourself, JJ. He's not for you._

JJ had, at the time, thought she was okay with it. Okay with something he still hasn't completely come to terms with. He's twenty-four now, and he's mellowed a bit, but it's no easy feat for a Catholic boy raised in a strict faith household to admit he's bisexual.

He's still never said the word aloud, not even to himself.

"I won't," he tells Yuri, finishing the cigarette. He stubs it out in the ashtray and sits up, stretches, gets off the rumpled comforter. Never any time to even turn the bed down; no, his and Yuri's passion is like a firecracker, one match and they explode. It's one of the things he likes best about Yuri.

But JJ has no idea if Yuri likes him at all. Yuri never gives any kind of indication; the closest JJ has to confirmation that Yuri doesn't hate him is the fact that he goes out late at night, when Otabek is DJ'ing, and meets up with JJ for the sole purpose of fucking him.

When JJ took that job at the factory, when he accepted the position of traveling consultant, it gave him the excuse he needed to get away, to tryst with Yuri.

"And take a shower," Yuri adds, as he pulls his light blue t-shirt over his head. "You stink like sex and cigarettes and your wife will definitely notice."

"Getting in now," JJ says; when he passes Yuri on the way to the bathroom, he pauses to tuck a strand of hair behind Yuri's ear and reach for a kiss.

Yuri ducks out of the way, and JJ knows he'll be gone by the time he gets out.

++

They fucked for the first time on Yuri's sofa, when Yuri was eighteen years old and had just moved out on his own. It was a relic, an ancient, swaybacked orange monstrosity in Yuri's basement, back when he didn't live with Otabek yet, and just after the three of them—almost friends, linked by Otabek—had all moved to Saint Petersburg. Izzy hadn't wanted to, but he'd overruled her. She went along with it because she loved him, and JJ loved his friends.

But Otabek had been his lover since Barcelona, and so JJ didn't know why Yuri was laboring over him, his knees squeezing JJ's hips as he pushed himself up; his hand in his hair, shoving the sweaty-damp strands out of his face as he sank back down; the kiss on his lips that JJ was dying to take.

It didn't make any sense, but JJ had been half-blinded by lust and love blind in the other half, so he didn't turn Yuri down when he'd said to JJ, 

"Come back to my place." The words had been simple; the meaning anything but. The expression lurking in his green eyes told JJ what Yuri'd wanted. He'd nearly smiled, and then he shook his blond hair into his face.

So now JJ was on his back, his hands kneading Yuri's ass while Yuri strained above him, striving for orgasm like a guitar string about to snap.

JJ lifted his hips, the better to bury himself to the hilt, and Yuri moaned and rocked, back and forth, up and down, his body wet with perspiration, his stomach smeared with precome, his eyelids fluttering. And Yuri leaned back, one hand still in his hair, the other flat on JJ's thigh, his cock pink and gloriously hard, inches from JJ's hands.

They moved together, JJ pistoning his hips, and Yuri pressing down, and JJ could feel every silken inch of the inside of his body; he could feel the overpowering heat of Yuri, from the tight rim of his hole to the soft swelter within.

"J-JJ!" Yuri gasped, moaned, and cried out as his body jerked. His cock spattered them both with come, and he came so much and so hard that it dribbled down the side of the couch beside JJ's ear. JJ wondered how many other times this couch had been stained with come—and how much of it was Otabek's.

"When was the last time you fucked Otabek?" JJ asked, but Yuri gave him his meanest glare and yanked off of him, too fast. JJ hadn't even come yet. JJ tried to grab him, but Yuri was already standing up, picking up some unidentifiable scrap of material and using it to wipe sweat and come from his body. His long, lean, exquisite body.

JJ imagined having that body all to himself, whenever he wanted, and it only took two strokes before he was jizzing himself. Yuri gave him a disgusted look, as if he hated the thought of JJ coming at all—but then why had he invited him?—and threw him the fabric—a t-shirt.

A JJ Style original, to be exact, though it was ripped and stained with things other than come. JJ sighed and used it to clean himself off.

Then Yuri grabbed JJ's car keys and threw them to him.

"Get the fuck out," he said, and as JJ was pulling his jeans back on, Yuri lit a cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoked," JJ said, and it was stupid.

"Get out!" Yuri snarled, and JJ didn't even have time to pull his t-shirt on before Yuri was throwing him out.

He drove home in a daze, smelling like sex, cigarettes, and candy, because Yuri's lips had been flavored with some kind of gloss.

He found Izzy asleep on the living room sofa, a pristine white thing of beauty that matched everything else in the living room. He covered her with a blanket crocheted by his maman, then went in to kiss the baby, straightening his blanket. Then he wandered off to make a sandwich.

He ate it standing by the kitchen counter, trying to keep the crumbs on the plate and not on the floor, all while still smelling Yuri all over him. It was dizzying, intoxicating.

By then, he'd wanted Yuri for years.

Somehow actually having him was bittersweet.

++

"You smell like an ashtray," Izzy said. "Did you go to a bar or something?" She got up in his personal space, tilting her face towards his, and he knew she was smelling his breath. For all his vices—and they included both Yuri and drinking too much champagne at the banquets—he didn't readily drink at any other time.

He knew she wouldn't smell alcohol on his breath; he hadn't had any. He also didn't have an answer for her. So he did the one thing he'd promised her he'd never do: he lied.

It was the first time he'd ever lied to her—but he understood it wouldn't be the last.

"I stopped by Otabek's club on the way home," he said. She frowned, a line appearing between her finely arched brows—brows he knew now that she plucked and teased into submission. He'd used to think she was perfect, and that every part of her was naturally perfect. Now he knew better.

"Did you have a good time?" Izzy asked, straightening his collar. "Please go take a shower. I can't stand that smell."

"I will, love," JJ said, but then Izzy suddenly hesitated, her nose wrinkled. "You smell like cologne."

"I—"

"Who is it?" Izzy asked, sudden like a rock dropped into a well.

"What, baby?" JJ affected confused, but Izzy was never going to be that stupid.

"Who were you with?" she asked again. "Did you—" But he was saved by his three-year-old son, conceived within months of marrying Izzy at age nineteen, running into the room, crying for his daddy.

Izzy didn't ask again, but he'd catch her looking at him sometimes, with a speculative gleam, like she knew.

++

It's a bad idea. JJ knows that from the minute Yuri suggests it, just like he knows he's going to give in.

"She's staying at her parents'," Yuri says, as they walk down the street. Yuri pauses now and then to peruse the window displays even as he swings his bag back and forth. "She's not home. C'mon, JJ."

"Kitten, please. It's a _terrible_ idea." JJ is going to say yes. He's only arguing for the sake of Yuri not knowing how easy he is—though he probably already knows. "Izzy will figure it out. Somehow, I don't know how, but she will."

Yuri stops looking at the lacy dress in the window and turns those come-hither green eyes on JJ.

"I want you to fuck me in your bed," he repeats. "I want you to fuck me on the same sheets you sleep on with your… _wife_."

"Don't say it like that. I love her." JJ is pretty sure he does, anyway.

"Do you?" Yuri knows just how to hit at JJ's most vulnerable places.

"Would you sleep with me on the bed you share with Otabek?" JJ asks, trying to turn the tables, but Yuri just laughs, his voice rough.

"Oh, there's no point in that," he says. "Beka's been sleeping on the couch for months."

JJ wants to ask, _and whose fault is that?_ but he keeps the words behind his teeth with effort.

"How do you know _I_ haven't been?" JJ asks, as Yuri stops at a shop and pushes open the door.

"Because I know you, freak. You'd never leave your wife."

The trouble is, it's true—Yuri's right. JJ's still lying and lying and trying to hide. But what he's trying to hide, he's not entirely sure. Is it the affair? Is it the bisexuality?

Yuri examines a collar of diamonds nestled in velvet, and JJ groans inwardly. Yuri's going to convince him to buy that, somehow.

"Otabek would notice something like that," he tries, anyway, unsuccessfully—they leave the shop with the diamond collar around Yuri's neck, fastened there by JJ, and a _yes_ in Yuri's pocket.

++

"My parents miss me and their grandson," Izzy said, even as she tried to get their son to stop squirming so she could put his pants back on. He'd taken to taking them off and running around naked. JJ privately thought it was kind of funny, but the one time he'd even hinted at that to Izzy, she'd given him a very stern look and a lecture: _it's important for him to understand what is inappropriate, and it is inappropriate for anyone to expose themselves._

JJ had wondered if that included people like Yuri Plisetsky, who enjoyed strutting around hotel rooms in nothing but his skin, often flushed pink, and with his dick standing up for attention.

"It's a long flight for a four-year-old," JJ said, sprawling on the couch, turning the TV on to watch the Montreal Canadiens. "You don't have to leave, Izzy."

Izzy put Alexandre down. He was wearing his pants again, and his face was red like he was about to start screaming about it.

"Yes. I do. I need a break, JJ. Maybe you don't see it, but things… they aren't working right now. They haven't been for awhile. I don't know why, but I think a two week vacation should help us. Give you some time to think."

He noticed she didn't talk about needing time to think for herself, but he didn't say anything.

"C'mere, Alex," he said, holding out his arms. "I'll teach you more about hockey."

"Maybe you should teach him about figure skating," Izzy said, a note of displeasure in her voice. She'd never minded hockey when they were dating, but she hated it now. She was always complaining about the cost of the TV package that he paid for to watch his favorite hometown team.

"I don't think you should go." JJ tried again. He didn't even want her there—but he couldn't bear to have her leave. If she left, JJ _would_ think about things—stuff he didn't want to consider too carefully. Besides, it hurt that she didn't want to leave him with his son. Like she didn't trust him around Alex.

"It's done, JJ. The arrangements have already been made. I'll see you two weeks from Friday."

Friday was in two days. She hadn't wanted to tell him too soon, then. She didn't want to give him a chance to stop her. He wouldn't even have bothered to try, not beyond trying to talk her out of it.

"And you'll just—"

"JJ," she said, her voice hard, unyielding; he looked at her immediately, hockey game forgotten. He could tell she wanted to say something, and she wanted his full attention. "Just… be _discreet_ , all right?"

His heart pounded fast, once, like a deer springing into a sprint from a hunter.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. But of course he did. It just wasn't another woman.

"I don't want to see my husband in the tabloids while I'm gone," Izzy said. JJ wondered how long they could go on like this. Long enough to raise a four-year-old? Long enough not to make a lie out of their wedding vows, 'til death do us part?

"You have nothing to worry about," JJ assured her, never even knowing if he was lying. He wondered if Otabek knew, or, if not, if he suspected. Did he ever question Yuri? Ask where Yuri went when he wasn't around?

Otabek and Yuri weren't married—but the last time they'd fucked, JJ had seen the ring glint on Yuri's right hand. The promise was there. They weren't married, but they were _going_ to be.

And maybe Otabek had no idea. JJ hated that thought. He didn't want his former rinkmate and current best friend—cheating with his lover notwithstanding—to go through what JJ was going through, married with no way out.

Then again, this was Saint Petersburg. They couldn't legally marry here, anyway. But JJ knew that didn't necessarily preclude them from marrying someplace tolerant—like Canada—and then coming home to their little love nest.

"Have a nice trip, baby," he said, and he hoped that Alex made her life hell on the plane.

++

JJ figures out it's over when he's flat on his back, his knees up to his chest, Yuri's cock think and brutal amid the channel of his body, the place where they're connected abraded by too much force.

It isn't that Yuri doesn't know what he's doing, or that JJ doesn't like it rough. It isn't even the fact that there's at least one bite mark he's going to have to hide.

No, it's the fact that he's getting lube and ill-gained sweat all over the 700 thread count cream-colored sheets that his wife picked out. It's the fact that he's fallen in love, and it's not with his wife.

That's how he knows it's over.

++

"I'm telling you, everything's great." JJ holds the phone between his ear and his shoulder and continues to swab Neosporin on the bite mark weeping blood on his hipbone. "I'm serious."

He can tell she doesn't think he's serious. Yuri doesn't, either. Yuri could be applying the Neosporin himself, to help JJ out, but instead he's toying idly with a used Kleenex, recently employed in the act of wiping jizz from JJ's stomach and chest.

"I love you, baby. Can I talk to Alex?" He frowns, then says, for Yuri's benefit, "No? Why not?"

Yuri's only reaction is to light a cigarette and puff on it as he sits on JJ's sofa. The sofa that JJ tends to think of as Izzy's, anyway. JJ makes a throat slashing motion, trying to get Yuri to put it out before it makes his house stink like smoke, but Yuri just waves the hand holding the cigarette lazily, giving him a dirty smile.

And okay, but it's making JJ want a smoke, too. It's making him jones for both that and for Yuri again, even though his ass is sore. Making him want to taste those lips, smear that eyeliner, fuck up that pretty face. Maybe he'll jam his cock between those lips and wonder if it will make his cock taste and smell like Marlboros.

"Fine. I know. Two days. No, I didn't throw any parties. You're my wife, Isabella, not my mom. And I'm not immature enough to throw a party."

But he _is_ immature enough to conduct an affair in his own house; to let Yuri convince him to fuck in his own bed. He'll never sleep next to Isabella again without feeling the phantom push-and-pull of Yuri's cock inside him. Without remembering lips so sweet he just wants to eat from them all the time, like they did this morning when Yuri put apple slices—Alex's favorite snack—between his lips and let JJ take bites from them while they were in his mouth.

"Yes, everything is fine, I told you that." Yuri waves at him again, this time letting his legs fall open so that the slinky women's skirt he's wearing rucks up his thighs and exposes his hard dick. JJ swallows, and quickly, before his voice cracks, croaks, "Goodbye, Isabella."

Then he's on Yuri where he's seated on the sofa, his mouth against Yuri's ear, his hand sliding up his thigh, beneath the skirt, and Yuri's laugh echoing as he stubs out the cigarette—on the goddamn sofa.

JJ immediately says a silent Hail Mary for using the Lord's name in vain, and then, just as Yuri's hole is flexing open around his fingers, he pulls back and stares into those defiant green eyes.

"I'm bisexual," he says. Yuri just laughs again, tugging him down for a kiss. When he lets JJ go, he says,

"No, you're not. You're a fucking guilty Catholic. I've got some breaking news for you, JJ. You're gay."

JJ fucks him open rougher with his fingers. No. He isn't.

Or, maybe. Maybe he is.

++

"You married a woman to make your _God_ happy," Yuri says. "You a had a kid to make your parents happy. You play house and you play daddy, but who are you really, JJ? Are you even happy?"

Yuri's little speech comes after JJ has told him it's over. He fucked Yuri over the arm of the sofa, leaning to the side and watching Yuri's precome drizzle onto the cushions and thinking how _glad_ it made him to fuck up Izzy's decadent couch. But then JJ told Yuri the truth—he had to be told.

"Of course I'm happy," JJ says. This is a lie. JJ doesn't know what happy feels like anymore. He doesn't know if he ever was—or if he was happy before he laid eyes on that fifteen-year-old ass and those mesmerizing green eyes. All he knows is that fucking Yuri is a misery, and it's not because Yuri can be such an asshole sometimes.

"Fine, good luck with that," Yuri says. He's pushing the slinky skirt back down his thighs. JJ wonders if come will drip down his inner leg and into view where anyone could see it. He wonders if he cares. Then he decides he doesn't, except insofar as he hopes Otabek doesn't notice.

"We really should have been using condoms," JJ says abruptly, even though now, when it's all over, is a little bit after the fact to think of it.

"Jesus, JJ, it's just me." Yuri grabs another cigarette. He puts it between his lips, then chews it a little instead of lighting it. "You serious about this? You're really gonna fucking let this go, just like that?"

He doesn't want to. He wants to wake up to those green eyes gazing into his. He wants to go to sleep at night with his arm around that slender but rock-hard middle. He wants to kiss those lips awake, and bite his neck before they go to sleep. He wants to slide into that hole in the morning and find it loose and sloppy from the night before.

He can't have any of those things.

"It's not Izzy, kitten," he says. "It's Otabek."

"That makes no fucking sense," Yuri says, lashing out because he's clearly bewildered; it's all there in his eyes.

"I could leave Isabella tomorrow, but we both know you're going to marry Otabek. There's no future for us. No, for _me_. You have a whole future planned—I can't be part of it. I'm sorry."

"Your fucking loss," Yuri spits around his Marlboro. "But you're right. I'd never leave Otabek for your sorry, closeted ass. I love him." Unspoken, the words _I don't love_ you hang in the air.

JJ waits to cry until the door closes behind him, and his perfect ass, beautiful face, and those eyes that he will never forget.

++

It's not the same, Izzy pumping her hips into him with the silicone toy attached to the harness at her waist. He'd begged and pleaded and talked, talked, talked until she agreed to do it, though she'd definitely been put off by the idea.

But it's not the same, and JJ knows it. He remembers vividly the heat, the length, the shape of Yuri's cock when it went sliding into him. The toy has lubricant that heats up lathered over it, but it doesn't help; the toy just doesn't feel like the real thing. And now that he's had the real thing, he doesn't want that to stop. Too bad it already has; his own fault.

Still, JJ grunts and waits for Izzy to plow him with it again. As she fucks him, as hard as she dares and as fast as she's willing—even though it's not enough—JJ closes his eyes.

Five-year-old Alex is at his grandmother's house, and JJ keeps breathing, rapid and heavy, through the pain lancing his chest.

On the dining room table of their brand-new Montreal home is a letter. An invitation.

> _You are invited! To the wedding of one Mr. Yuri Plisetsky and Mr. Otabek Altin, on September 19th, 2023, in Montreal, Quebec, Canada._
> 
> _Please RSVP to +1 (XXX) 555-8243 by June 18th. The grooms look forward to your reply._

Today is September nineteenth. JJ takes in a breath as Izzy slams deep, but he doesn't come.

end.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://helm-puppet-trash.tumblr.com)!


End file.
